My relationship with Judaism has changed throughout my life. As someone who moved around a lot, I got to experience many different communities with many different belief systems. I went to a Jewish preschool in Alpharetta, Georgia. I’m fond of the very few memories I have there. The crafts were fun and the snacks were always delicious. I remember dunking my Challah into grape juice every Friday for Shabbat. If it wasn’t dripping and dark purple I didn’t want it. When we moved to Bowling Green, Kentucky the energy around my Jewishness shifted.
Most of my childhood was spent there, smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt. Being the only Jewish student in my elementary and middle school was difficult. Luckily I did not experience too much religion-related bullying, other than the occasional Holocaust joke. Our neighbors were as Christian as you can get, and we made great friends with their kids. They were always so kind to us, but I remember their parents praying for our salvation every time we had dinner at their house. My parents had an unfortunate run-in or two with other adults who looked down upon our beliefs. I most vividly remember one of another neighbor rubbing their heads when we first moved in because they were checking for horns.
My parents took our Jewish education into their own hands. Not because they were extremely religious themselves, but because they wanted us to have a connection to where we come from. There were no synagogues, religious schools, or any Jewish centers for miles and miles. We were begrudgingly forced to Skype a flaky teacher every Sunday morning to replace what would’ve been our Sunday School.
In the summer we visited my Nana in Fullerton, California. We spent a month and a half at Camp Sholom in Orange and Camp Hes Kramer in Malibu. I was a camper turned counselor, and I loved my time there. Being around kids who weren’t so weirded out by my beliefs was nice. At the same time, I was always a bit embarrassed when we went out in public. Our neon shirts with Camp Sholom in bold letters made it obvious that we were with a temple. No one ever said anything, but I suppose I was wired that way.
We joined a temple when we moved to Franklin, Tennessee. I enjoyed my time there, especially because the eighth-grade class was essentially a crafting class. I’m not sure exactly why the curriculum was solely based on crafts, but I never complained. At this point, I was about to turn 13, and the thought of a Bat Mitzvah had not even crossed my mind.
oved the kids, but I mostly loved getting to learn what being Jewish meant through their eyes. I never got that early education, and it was so meaningful to me.
By the time I was 15, which is the age that Jewish kids get confirmed, I decided I did not want to be a Bat Mitzvah. I didn’t feel the urge to take that step as I had downplayed being Jewish up until that point. It wasn’t until my little sister decided to become one when she turned 13 that I decided I wanted to do it. Honestly, I couldn’t stand the idea of her getting all the money and gifts while I stood idly by. We decided to do it together, which is called a B’not Mitzvah.
I’m content with my relationship with Judaism today at 21. I’ve had honest conversations with myself about how I feel about religion and where it belongs in my life. I love the traditions that come with being Jewish. I love how it emphasizes the celebration of where we were and how far we have come. The way it commemorates those who have passed and those who are struggling is also special. The friendships I’ve made through it will last a lifetime. The desserts are yummy too.
ana’s house. I love celebrating with her because I get to hear her stories about growing up Jewish on Long Island in the 1940s. Just like me, her early life was not easy when it came to her religion.
I’m so grateful that my parents made the extra effort to make my sister and me proud to be Jewish. We had Shabbat dinner every week. I loved my Mom teaching my class how to play Dreidel with Hershey Kisses every winter. It took bravery to walk into a classroom of 20 very religious Christian kids and teach them about our traditions. She did it anyway, and I think she is so cool for that. Religion is one branch of growing up that I have not reflected on much until now. Once you get to a certain age, you get to make your own rules about how you want to live. My past influences those decisions immensely, and reflecting on these memories is so worth it. I’d encourage every reader to have these conversations with themselves if only to reminisce on being a little kid again.
If anyone is also celebrating Passover this week, I hope you have a lovely seder that isn’t too dragging. Personally, I’ll be loading up on Matzoh Ball Soup and my Nana’s Kugel. Chag Sameach!
This was so personal and authentic. I truly loved hearing your story. It is interesting to see how your relationship with religion even though you weren't surrounded by it for a few years.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing some of your religion and traditions. I didn't realize how much you moved and how different the locations were growing up.
ReplyDeleteOur family celebrates Easter. My parents have many diverse friends. So there were two other families there who are Jewish.
This was so wonderful to read. I loved learning about you, thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteLoved learning about your religion!
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